Big Bad Royal: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Tia Siren

  She gasped when she pulled away, and then she started to laugh as some of his pearly white cum slid out past her lips. She slid her finger along her chin, gathering the spunk, and ate it once more.

  David left the next day. They made love that night, in the bed, the windows open, the soft breeze rolling over their naked bodies. He was gone before she woke. It was just her and the maid in the large house, and Cherry found herself growing sad as each day passed and the man didn’t return.

  Weeks passed before he came back. When he did, he was in a bad mood. He fucked her for five nights, hard and fast, filling her with his seed or forcing his cock into her mouth before he blew, even painting her tits and chin with it. She came too, of course, but he didn’t seem to care. She knew he was stressed, was in danger of losing it all. Then he left again, back to America. Back to regain control.

  Cherry was pregnant. She found out three days after he left again. She had missed her period and had sent the maid to the mainland for a test. She took it and sent the woman for another. She took that one too, and it had the same reading. She was with child.

  When David came back two weeks later, she told him as soon as she saw him. Anger flashed in his eyes. She had thought he would be excited. She had realized she loved the man, had fallen for him despite who he was, despite what he did. But when she saw that anger, she didn’t know.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” David asked, his accent thick. He hadn’t tried to sound American since they had left Chicago.

  “No,” Cherry said. “I’m sorry, okay?”

  “I thought you were on the pill,” David demanded.

  “I am.”

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “It can happen!” Cherry said. “Stop being angry.”

  “Everything I have is gone! I’m fighting for it all, trying to hold on with my fingertips,” David snarled. “Don’t you understand that?”

  “Fuck you,” Cherry said, and that was the end of the conversation. She went to bed alone that night. She woke up alone, before the sun was even out. She got out of bed and went down to the kitchen. Standing at the sink, she filled a glass with water and drank it. In the backyard was a small hut. The maid, a Greek woman in her thirties named Beth, which of course was short for something more exotic sounding, lived there. The light was on. Cherry could see through the window. There, bent over a kitchen table, was Beth, nude. David stood behind her, plowing her with his large cock. Tears swam in Cherry’s eyes, and she ran back upstairs.

  She packed what she could, finding a small bag in the back of the closet. She hurried out the front door. The ferry wouldn't come by until later that morning, but there was a small row boat tied to the dock. She got in and set out for the mainland.

  It took her hours, but she made it. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon. She had taken money too, and she bought a room in the city. It was small and lonely, and she sat on the end of the bed and wondered what she was going to do next.

  Her cell phone rang. It was David, and she didn’t answer.

  Days passed, and he called and called. She didn’t answer or listen to the messages he left. He texted her, but she didn’t read those either.

  One day Cherry was getting lunch at a small shop near the hotel when a man took her by the arm.

  “You’re a hard woman to find,” the man snarled as she turned. He jabbed a gun into her ribs. “Don’t try anything,” the man said. He was American, and Cherry hadn’t heard anyone with that accent in days.

  She nodded to show she understood and let the man lead her out of the shop. A car was waiting nearby, and he pushed her into the backseat. Nathan was there.

  “Cherry, holy fuck, I had to come to Greece to get you,” Nathan said as the other man got behind the wheel and started driving.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked.

  “Where is David?”

  So they didn’t know where he lived. They just had found out he had a home in Greece.

  “If I tell you, will you let me go?” Cherry asked.

  Nathan grinned and nodded. “This has grown beyond you,” he said. “You have my word. I’m over that earlier stuff. So you saw what I was planning. To be honest, you made me jump forward on my time table, and everything has worked out. I’ll even give you your old job back.”

  Cherry considered it all. She didn’t know if Nathan was telling the truth, of course, but she didn’t care what happened to David, not after what she had seen.

  “I’ll take you there,” she said finally, and Nathan grinned.

  6

  David was worried. He had been for days. He didn’t know where Cherry had gone. He had been rough on her—he knew that—but wasn’t she taking things too far? He would apologize; he would win her back. He had too. He loved her, and he wanted to be a father.

  The bell rang. Beth had the day off, so she wouldn’t be getting the door. David went and pulled it open.

  “Cherry,” he said, seeing her first, and then it dawned on him who she was with. “Nathan,” David growled, reaching for the gun he always kept on him, but Nathan already had his drawn.

  “Mind if we come in?” Nathan asked sardonically, and David stepped back. Only one other man was with Nathan, but David had no way of telling if there were others out of sight.

  “Where have you been?” David asked Cherry.

  “I saw you two,” Cherry spat. “You and Beth. You fucked her!”

  “I didn’t!” David said, and then it all dawned on him. He knew what she had seen. He could explain it to her, but he had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

  “You did!” Cherry said, her voice full of hurt.

  “Enough,” Nathan said. “I should have just killed you both right away, but I wanted you to know it was me.”

  “You little shit,” David said. Nathan laughed and lifted his gun, aiming it at Cherry.

  “You said!” Cherry said, her eyes going wide.

  “I lied,” Nathan said, and then there was a loud bang.

  Nathan crumpled to the ground, his head red and horrible, a bullet having slammed through the back of it.

  Cherry turned as another shot rang out. A man in the doorway was stalking forward, limping, a gun raised. He had killed Nathan’s driver.

  “Any more?” David asked the man while Cherry tried to take it all in. The man who had saved them looked almost identical to David. Same build, same square jaw, same color hair. It was uncanny.

  “Who is this?” Cherry asked, looking to her David. She could see the differences, looking back and forth between the two men, but at a distance they would easily pass for one another.

  “His name is Tom,” David said. “I hired him because he looks just like me. Safety precaution. He’s a double and a bodyguard. He was injured back home some months ago; I sent him her to recuperate. He and Beth have hit it off, to say the least.”

  Cherry got it then. Tom had been fucking Beth, not David. She felt stupid, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. David stepped forward and took her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “About before. I’m excited about the baby. I am. I’m excited about you. I have a lot of work to do, and it isn’t pretty work, but I wanted you to know I’m in, if you are.

  Cherry looked at David, keeping her eyes off the dead bodies at her feet. She nodded. It was a wild life and a wild world, and she didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but she knew David would always keep her safe. She kissed him.

  “I’m in,” she said as she pulled slowly away.

  *****

  THE END

  BWWM Romance - The Russian’s Secret Love Child: Octavia’s Story

  “Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen,” said the Russian ambassador to the United States. “I am honored to welcome you to the Russian Embassy this evening.” The ambassador glanced at his most special guests. “I am particularly pleased to be able to welcome you, Mr. President, and your lovely daughter, Octavia.”

  The president of t
he United States, Daniel Wahlberg, nodded in recognition as the ambassador continued. “I am very grateful to you for your support in the initiative our two great countries have embarked upon together. As you all know, terrorism is the number one threat to civilization in modern times. That is why it is so important we have agree on terms to set up the Russian - US Initiative to Prevent Nuclear Terrorism. Now I am sure you don't want to hear me talking all evening, so I would just like to say, I hope you enjoy yourselves this evening.”

  The ambassador climbed down from the podium in the Russian Embassy in Washington DC and gratefully accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter.

  “Mr. President, as I said in my speech, thank you for attending this evening.”

  “Not at all. It is a magnificent initiative that deserves my support. If a terrorist got a hold of one of these weapons, it would be the greatest disaster that has ever befallen us.”

  Daniel Wahlberg looked at the ambassador. He didn't like or trust him, but the president was an experienced politician who made everyone feel they were his friend. Stanislav Kuklov was a big man, probably six feet two and very broad. He had a round face with a scar down his right cheek. His eyes were particularly noticeable because they were gray, or very faintly blue if one was being polite. Unlike the president, he had a full head of black hair and sun-tanned skin.

  “Mr. President, may I introduce you to my son, Slava. He's over here on vacation.”

  “It's nice to meet you, Slava,” the president said as he shook the young man's hand.

  “The pleasure is mine, sir,” Slava replied.

  “Have you met my daughter, Octavia?” he said, looking at his twenty-year-old daughter.

  “No, sir, I have not. It is a pleasure to meet you too, Octavia,” Slava said as he lifted Octavia's hand and kissed it.

  Octavia laughed at the manner of his greeting; she thought it old-fashioned but extremely quaint. “I can see you are a perfect gentleman,” she replied, referring to the hand kissing.

  “Ah, where I am from, that is quite normal.”

  “Mr. President, shall we leave these two young people to chat? I would like to talk to you about a matter that has been on my mind for some time.” The president nodded, and Slava and Octavia found themselves standing alone.

  “If I may say so, Octavia, you look quite stunning this evening. I have of course seen many photos of you in the press, but in reality you are even more beautiful.”

  Octavia looked at him before she replied. He was her age, around twenty, tall and dark, like his father. Unlike his father, Slava was handsome. She took an instant liking to his relaxed manner and blue eyes. When he smiled, it made her want to giggle, like a schoolgirl.

  “It's very kind of you to say so. Is it customary in Russia to comment on a lady’s beauty so soon after meeting her?”

  “If I have offended you, I apologize. It wasn't my intention to.”

  “No, you didn't offend me. Your remarks made me feel wonderful. I only ask because it happens so rarely in the US. Mostly people are more interested in criticizing what I have chosen to wear.”

  “I have seen your photo in many magazines and newspapers, and I can say, I have never seen you wearing anything I didn't like. It must be tough being the president's daughter. In the US, you are akin to royalty,” Slava said.

  “It is not easy, you are right. But I am privileged, and that is something I mustn't take for granted. Most people in the world are less fortunate than me, and I mustn't forget it.”

  “That is an interesting comment, one I have often used myself. However, I believe everyone has their problems, and just because they don't have worse problems than others doesn't make it any easier.” Octavia was impressed by his thought. He seemed different, someone who rationalized, unlike most people she knew, who were uptight and always ready to criticize.

  Slava knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn't drag his eyes from her. He loved black women, and he'd read many times about the president's beautiful daughter, but he hadn't realized quite how lovely she was. She was almost as tall as him, which made her five feet ten, although he noticed she was wearing heels. Her hair was combed to one side with long curls hanging down to her shoulder. He had the urge to kiss her neck. It looked so elegant and fragile. She was wearing a satin evening gown and a diamond necklace with matching earrings. He didn't want to look down at her body in case she noticed and moved away to talk to somebody else, but unable to resist, he afforded himself a quick glimpse. He'd seen many pictures of her in various magazines, and what he'd liked most about her was her beautiful shape. Her breasts looked heavy and inviting, and her hips and bottom were curved just as he liked. All the women back home in his social circle were tall and slender, with little bust and no hips. He was bored by them. Octavia was a real woman with all the attributes he craved. In fact, he would never admit it, but whenever he'd seen her picture in a magazine or newspaper, he'd stare at it for as long as he could.

  “So what do you do, Slava? I mean for a living.”

  “My father wants me to be a career politician or a diplomat like him. I am studying politics and economics at Moscow University.” Octavia noticed how his expression had changed when he'd mentioned his father's expectations.

  “Your father wants you to be a politician. Is that what you want as well?”

  “No. I want to sail,” he said, his eyes lighting up as his smile returned. “I love yachts, or, in fact, any boat. Most of all I would like to sail around the world and design breathtaking yachts.”

  “And why don't you do that?” Octavia asked. “Sorry. That was rude of me,” she added quickly. “I'm afraid I already know the answer. You see, I'm in the same boat.” She stopped at the unintended pun, and they both laughed. “I mean my life seems to have a similar pattern. I'm studying law at Harvard, but I really just want to be a writer.”

  “Really? What kind of things do you want to write?”

  “Romance books. I love getting lost in silly romances. Please don't tell anyone, though. If it got out, the press would call me a lightweight.”

  “I would never think you a lightweight, whatever you did,” he said. He was mortified to feel himself blush.

  Octavia noticed, and she leaned toward him. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you so much.”

  *****

  “Hi, Slava. How are you?” Octavia asked as he appeared on her laptop. He looked every bit as handsome as he'd been when they'd met just a few short days before.

  “I'm well. How are you? I can see you perfectly. Skype is amazing, isn't it?”

  “Yes. Did you get back from the US okay?”

  “It's a long way and a long flight, but I managed. I read some books and looked at a few magazines. You were in one of them.”

  “Oh really? What was I doing?”

  “You were interviewed about what it's like to be the daughter of the president of the US. It was interesting to read, especially now that I have met you in person. I liked the photos too.”

  “Was I standing in front of a Christmas tree?”

  “Yes. That's the one. Standing in front of a Christmas tree with a red hat on—a bit like one of Santa's helpers,” Slava joked.

  “Thanks,” she replied ironically. There was a pause in the conversation, and then they suddenly tried to tell each other something at the same time. “Sorry, Slava. You go first,” she said.

  “I just wanted to say what a lovely evening I had at the Russian Embassy with you.”

  “I enjoyed it very much as well,” Octavia said. She wasn't wearing any of her expensive jewelry as she sat in her room at Harvard, but Slava found her just as stunning.

  “Octavia?” he said, as if he were going to ask her something of the utmost importance. “What are you going to do when this semester ends in June?”

  “I don't know. I guess my parents will have all sorts of tasks lined up for me. Why do you ask?”

  “I wanted to invite you on my boat for a few days
.”

  “Oh, that would be fantastic,” she said. “But hang on.” She had suddenly realizing something. “I don't know if my security will allow me to travel to Russia and get on a boat before they have checked it out thoroughly.”

  “That's a good point. I didn't think of that. I suppose you have far more security than me. After all, you are the president's daughter. I'm just the son of an ambassador.”

  “It's a perfect pain in the butt, all this bodyguard stuff. I can't move without someone watching me.”

  “I tell you what: I'll charter a yacht in the US, and we will sail along the Eastern Seaboard. Your security will be able to follow at a discreet distance, and they'll be much more accommodating of the idea if you are in the US.”

  “That would certainly help. Oh, I'll really look forward to that. Thank you for asking me. I took a boring exam today, and I'm not sure if I passed, so you have brightened up my day to no end.”

  “Who needs stupid exams? You can sit on the boat and write your first novel while I sail us around. That sounds idyllic, doesn't it?”

  “Yes, it does. How cruel reality is.”

  *****

  Octavia stood on the quay at the New York Yacht Club and watched Slava carry her bags on deck. “It looks like you chartered a floating palace,” she commented.

  “She's a sixty-five-foot motor cruiser. Six bedrooms and more than enough luxury,” he shouted as he walked up the gangplank. The harbor was full of expensive boats, but it seemed Slava had managed to get his hands on the largest of them. Octavia watched him. His legs were long and thin in his white jeans. He was wearing a blue shirt that made him look every bit the sailor. His boat shoes were navy with white souls.

  “Why do women always need so many clothes?” he asked as he came back for the final two bags. “You're going to be wearing shorts most of the time or swimwear. But I hope you didn't forget your cocktail dress,” he joked.